


you took your first breath

by cazzo



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gay Chicken, M/M, i'm gay!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazzo/pseuds/cazzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe Trohman is finally in college, where he meets Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, and Andy Hurley. And college is where he falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you took your first breath

Pete Wentz is nefarious. He’s five years older than like, half the party. He’s been in college for many years, just never stopped after undergrad before going into the English literature grad program at UIC. He still hangs out with loads of freshman, which normally would not make any sense to Joe, but he knows that Pete is friends with some kid named Patrick (who, coincidentally, is in Joe’s Intro to American Literature class), on who Pete waited five years to get to college. Childhood friends or something like that, thankfully Pete being too young to like, have changed Patrick’s diaper. Or so Patrick says. Patrick isn’t here right now, it’s just Joe and Andy in one corner of some crammed little apartment where, beyond their bubble, there is a party occurring. 

Joe nurses his PBR while a slightly disappointed-looking Andy eyes him. Unfortunately, Joe is not paying attention to Andy’s body language, because he is far too busy bitching about how some asshole at Guitar Center tried to overcharge him today, the bastard, and Joe doesn’t notice Pete Wentz throwing glances his way from a few feet to the left. 

“He wanted to charge me ten dollars for new strings. Ten dollars! Can you believe that? They weren’t even that good of strings,” Joe rants to a bored Andy, who doesn’t care much about guitar stuff because drums are better, and Pete Wentz finally coughs a little laugh and puts his hand on Joe’s shoulder. 

Joe jumps, totally unaware of, like, the entire world because he has beer and is fuzzy and is pissed off at The Man. He manages to look up at Pete and smile. Pete is grinning, like he usually is, and his straightened black hair falls nicely across his face. 

“That sucks that they were trying to overcharge you, man,” Pete consoles, and pulls up a kitchen chair to sit with the other men. “If you went to the one on North Halsted, they kind of suck. They’re like, okay, and they’re mostly like young young dudes there, but they kind of suck.” Pete smiles this blinding smile — God his teeth are white against his skin — and Joe feels his brain sputter momentarily as he thinks of something to say.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. “I usually go to the Chicago Music Exchange, but I just ran into that Guitar Center for a second.” 

Pete blinds everyone in the party with that smile once more, and says, “Man, I love that place! I’m assuming you play guitar?”

Once more, Joe has trouble coming up with any kind of coherent response, so he nods instead and takes a long, long sip of his PBR. It’s bad warm. He tries to not make a face. He isn’t completely sure why Pete Wentz is having such an intense effect on him, but it _could_ be because Joe is just now figuring out that sexuality is, well, fluid. In high school, he was not exactly a pussy magnet (that buzzcut and those glasses? Terrible.), but he wasn’t a virgin at graduation, he’ll tell you that. But he was only with girls, only dated girls. College kind of changed him, probably because when you’re at a liberal arts school in Chicago and _not_ in a stuffy suburb, there’s a lot more hot guys. Like Pete. Like Pete who is still sitting with them, making jokes with Andy. He keeps throwing glances at Joe, still, and Joe really wishes he could disappear. He would love to have a sexuality crisis in his counselor’s office. Not at this party, where he figured his OCD would act up and he would spend the whole night obsessing over whether Pete thought he was a freak.

Despite whatever freakiness he might be exuding, Pete is still there with him and Andy. People come and go, chatting with Pete momentarily and not really giving Joe a second look. Everyone was blasted. Everyone liked Pete. Just like Joe finds himself, fuck, _like_ liking Pete. High school lingo still. 

So it surprises Joe — and Andy, bastard — when Pete leans in real close to Joe’s face and asks, “Have you ever played gay chicken?”

It was like Pete could read his fucking mind. With this beer in his system he did not entirely doubt it. He even choked on his spit a little when Pete asked, and has to burp a few times before he can speak.

“No, I don’t think I have,” he chokes out. 

“D’you know what it entails?” Pete grins, pulling his chair closer to Joe’s. 

“Yeah, it’s when you like… do gay kissing and whoever-”

Joe can’t finish his sentence before Pete starts laughing, hard enough to make tears pool at the corners of his dark brown eyes. “Do gay kissing?”

And Joe is about to punch himself in the face when Pete goes, “You’re cute.” Then he leans in farther, takes Joe’s head in his hands, and starts kissing him. Andy hoots, and Joe can come back to reality just long enough to flip him the bird, before getting really, really into the kiss.

He ain’t no gay chicken, and he does not want Pete to think he is. Really…really. 

But it gets hot fast, with Pete sliding his tongue into Joe’s open mouth and tangling his fingers in Joe’s crazy, curly hair. Joe experimentally touches Pete’s hair, and it’s surprisingly soft. He tries not to lose his mind right there. And right when he thinks his pants are about to betray him (not a gay chicken) Pete pulls away and gasps for air. Joe is pretty sure that he is the only one who hears him, because everyone around them is now hooting along with Andy, and beginning to congratulate Joe on being the non-gaychicken. Pete is still looking at him, and he’s biting his lip. For a moment he looks…unsure. He looks not as confident as he did when he sauntered into the room. But this lasts only for a second, and he’s smiling again, and he’s raising his hands and shoulders in a sheepish shrug as if to say “well, you guys got me!” 

Andy yells something indistinct and Joe turns to him and asks him to repeat himself. Some more dumb shit about being a non-gaychicken and how proud Andy was that Joe could beat someone at _anything_ at all, and Joe flips him the bird again. When he looks back for Pete, he’s nowhere to be found. Joe doesn’t see him for the rest of the night. 

_____________________

Back at his dorm, Joe strips out of his clothes and gets ready for the shower. He’s already hungover, damn PBR, damn him for drinking ten of them, and damn Andy for smugly throwing a bottle of Advil at him when they got back. XVX. Joe rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror as he waits for the shower to heat up.

Leaning in, he examines his own lips and imagines what Pete was thinking when he kissed him. He isn’t sure. He traces his lips with his fingers, and then down his neck, and chest, and down to his crotch where his dick twitches. Lucky for him, knowing that Pete did a mad dash after their make-out was enough to make him flaccid for hours. But now, standing here naked by himself, the water rushing, Andy asleep, Pete “Cool Man” Wentz doing god knows what (probably fucking some girl), Joe works himself up again. He remembers Pete’s lips and Pete’s hands and just can’t stop himself from imagining Pete running those hands all over his body. Joe closes his eyes to get away from his own reflection as he jacks himself off slowly, cumming hard on the mirror. He cleans it up after he bathes, and then he goes to sleep. 

_____________________

It’s Monday morning, nine in the am, and despite all the water, sleep, ibuprofen, and cold showers, Joe is sure he’s still hungover. And he’s also sure that if he sees Pete at all ever again he might die from embarrassment. Not just because the dude totally bailed, but also because Joe has definitely rubbed it out three, four, five times to the dude the past two days. _It’s a big school_ , Joe reassures himself. _There’s no way you could just randomly run into him_.

By 9:10, the professor for American literature waltzes into the room, late. He’s a scruffy looking dude, covered with tattoos, and there’s even little holes on his face where piercings used to be. Joe knows these well since he took his lip ring out. Professor Iero claps once and plops down in his chair. He beams at the room. 

Patrick returns back from the bathroom and sits down next to Joe. 

Joe doesn’t want to talk to Patrick, for fear that Pete said something embarrassing, or maybe Patrick hates him because Patrick likes Pete, no, no they’re good friends, maybe Pete just told Patrick that Joe smelled weird or was a bad kisser or was creepy-gay. 

Glancing over, Patrick smiles. Iero is beginning to talk about Edgar Allen Poe, who he loves, unsurprisingly. They both have to remain quiet for the duration of the lecture, but Joe is just itching to ask questions. 

Afterwards, Joe and Patrick walk out of the classroom discussing Iero’s various idiosyncrasies. 

“Did you _know_ ,” Patrick begins, and Joe’s heart jumps right into his throat. This is what he was waiting for. “…that Iero and that art teacher, what’s his name, Way? Well, they’re dating.”

Joe’s heart sinks back down to its normal place. “Wow,” he says slowly. Really, it was some juicy fucking gossip. But all Joe has been able to think about the past couple of hours is what _Pete_ thinks. Even though that’s stupid and shouldn’t matter. 

“I know,” Patrick replies excitedly. They sit down at a small table outside the library. Then, Patrick smirks. “Heard you went to that party Friday night.”

Joe wants to puke. “Yeah, it was pretty chill.”

“Heard Pete made you play gay chicken.”

This puts Joe on the defensive. “Well, he didn’t make me. I wanted to. I mean like, I wanted to play. You know?” Sweating.

Patrick’s smile grew. He starts laughing and Joe’s stomach falls through the floor. Once he’s done, Patrick sighs and says, “Pete’s gay! Don’t know why he wanted to play gay chicken. Thought that was for straight people.” 

Makes sense. Patrick, a chubby trans man who is unsure about his sexuality, has stated to Joe in the past that he doesn’t have a lot of straight friends. 

Also, Pete’s super tight jeans make sense now, too.

“Wait, so, if he’s gay, yeah. Why did he ask me to play?” Joe asks.

Patrick shrugs and smiles. “Maybe he _wanted_ to kiss you.”

Joe tries his best not to smile. It was pretty ridiculous that Pete did that, especially at a party, especially since he must have thought that Joe was straight. Patrick says he didn’t tell Pete anything about Joe’s blossoming bisexuality, so… Pete took a risk. To kiss him! He fails trying not to smile, and Patrick catches his eye, smiles again at him. At least Pete knows he’s not straight _now_. That kiss he gave to Pete, well, he doesn’t just kiss anyone like that.

“Pete told me he thinks you’re not straight.” Patrick almost reads Joe’s mind.

“He’s right.”

Patrick laughs, a full sound that Joe loves from his friend.

**Author's Note:**

> dunno how long this will be!!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
